by Freda, Paula
She wasn't by the elevators and he guessed she had already caught one down. He took the stairs dangerously, two at a time. When he reached the apartment foyer and saw no sign of her, he hurried through the front doors. Joe would have seen her, he thought.
"Yes, sir, I did see her, just a few minutes ago. She looked somewhat distraught. I tried to ask if she needed help, but she barely waved to me as she hurried past."
"Thanks, Joe," David said starting to walk south.
"Sir," Joe called.
David turned.
"If you're going after her," the door attendant pointed with his thumb in the opposite direction. "She went north," he said.
"North?" David repeated.
"Yes, sir. North," Joe repeated hesitantly, curious at the startled expression on David's face.
"Are you sure?" David asked.
"Yes, sir. As I said, she looked distraught. I watched her go up the avenue until the crowd put her out of my sight."
Perplexed, David took a moment to gather his wits.
"North," he murmured under his breath. He glanced at the attendant. "Thanks, Joe," he said.
The door attendant watched him hasten up the avenue. His neck creaked as he strained to see better and further than the optic nerve of the body he inhabited would allow. Why, he wondered, does it take humans so long to realize they're in love?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It might all be a useless endeavor, David thought, frustrated, as he headed north. He stopped only to peer through store fronts in case Ady was inside shopping. About five blocks up, the bus that ran north along the avenue pulled up to a metro stop sign. Reasoning that he might have better luck spotting her, David boarded the bus, paid the fare, and sat by a window overlooking the street. Heavy city traffic and bus stops gave him time to scan the streets and building fronts. When he had ridden further than he believed it was possible for Ady to walk since he had begun searching for her, he left the bus, and crossed to the other side where he caught the bus going in the opposite direction. No luck, again.
On the way, he noticed a narrow Church, with a cross and spires. An idea struck him. Ady was deeply committed to her faith. He had learned this about her from their conversations over the months. She crossed herself before meals; she attended Mass faithfully each Sunday, and Holy Days of Obligation. Several times she had invited him to join her. He was ashamed to admit that he found excuses, genuine, but not unsurpassable. He reasoned, where else would a lonely, distraught woman of her caliber, seek solace.
He left the bus at the next stop and walked back to the Church and entered through the double doors. The interior lights were dimmed. The lower sashes of the stained glass windows were tilted inward, allowing rays cascading from the setting sun on its way to the horizon, to enter and blend with the soft glow of lit candles. On the Altar the Consecrated Host was exposed for adoration, set in the center of a monstrance, a gold, circular-shaped vessel resembling a prisiming sun. A few dedicated souls knelt in the pews, their eyes fixed on the Host.
His parents and his teachers from Religious Ed., had taught him that the small white wafer, the Consecrated Host, was the body of the crucified Jesus, transfigured to offer forgiveness, love, and acceptance. Easter was only a couple of weeks away. David remembered that especially during Lent, a time of reflection and penance leading to Easter, the Resurrection of Christ three days after the Crucifixion, it was customary to hold Adoration hours for the community.
David dipped a fingertip in the holy water receptacle by the entrance, and signed himself with the cross. He entered the church proper and walked up the center aisle, searching the pews and side altars for the woman he had come to love with his whole heart. He saw her, kneeling in the pew, midway, a Rosary in her hands, fingers moving slowly across each bead as she prayed the Hail Mary to Jesus' sweet mother. Seeing her thus, her eyes fixed lovingly on the Host, a stranger might think, here is a nun in the making. But David knew better. During one of their easy conversations, the topic had arisen. He had asked her once if she had considered becoming a nun. She told him that although the thought had occurred to her, her desire to become a wife and mother, was stronger. In her teens, she had discussed this with her Confessor, and he had advised her to follow her heart. As much as the religious life appealed to her, she knew it was not her calling. She was far too feisty and impetuous to conform to the vow of Obedience required of a Nun. And as for Chastity, her heart yearned for a man's love, and children, whether her own or adopted.
David slipped into the pew and knelt beside her. "May I pray with you?" he asked.
Startled, Adriana gazed at him. The surprise on her face warmed to awe. She smiled and nodded. Together they turned to face the Lord and placed their fears and their worries in His Blessed Hands.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Church adjoined an eighteenth century cemetery, set peacefully among trees and shrubbery. The old American headstones bore messages of respect and affection. David and Adriana strolled beside the wrought iron fence enclosing the burial ground.
David halted and clasped Adriana's arm. "I need desperately to tell you this," he said, bringing her about towards him. Adriana appeared hesitant to meet his gaze, so he tenderly cupped her chin and raised it so that she might read the earnest affection on his face.
"I'm in love with you," he said.
"And I with you," Adriana replied, emotion crackling her voice. "But what about your Lady in Red? Are you in love with her as well?"
He didn't answer immediately, but when he did, it was to shake his head adamantly. "I've been a fool these past years. Hanging on to a dream, an illusion. Ever since I met you, I'm never happier than when I'm in your company. Your laughter, your gentleness and kindness, your simplicity and sweetness. I have no qualms about telling you how much I've come to care for you. Whatever spell she cast on me that evening as we danced, you've broken it."
David clasped her in both arms. You don't need to be afraid to love me, Ady. I want you to be my wife and spend your life joined to mine."
"Oh David, it's what I've dreamed of. But what if she turns up, free and ready to give you her heart—"
"I'd send her away. Tell her she's too late, because I've given my heart to someone else. Someone with an innocent and beautiful soul, not some flirtatious beauty in an alluring red dress."
Adriana paled visibly. She asked, "Do I remind you of her at all?"
"The color of your hair and eyes, perhaps. But you're far lovelier than she, inside and out. I've come to realize that."
Ady shivered. "I-I ..." The words died on her lips. She wanted to tell him that she was the lady in red; offer him proof should he think she was joking. But once he came to accept her true identity, that love he offered her would turn to distrust and contempt. "An innocent and beautiful soul" he'd said. Who'd carried out quite a deception these past months, and stolen his heart while she executed her plan to determine if he was worthy of her love. Ady's knees threatened to buckle. Only David holding her, prevented her from falling.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"
"No, no, it's okay. I need to go home."
"I'll call a cab and come with you," David said, grabbing his cellphone from his pants' side pocket.
"No, it's not necessary. Truly, David. I need to go home by myself. I need to be alone. Please, David. If you love me as much as you say, let me go home by myself. I need to be alone to think my feelings through. Please David."
The tears brimming in her eyes and the pleading note in her voice were too much for him to disoblige. "Ady, sit for a moment," he said. He led her to the first of two stone benches complementing the fence, and sat with her, shouldering her protectively. "You're trembling," he said worriedly.
"It's nothing," she reassured him. "I tremble when I'm nervous."
David's brow knitted. "Ady, what's wrong. Is it me, my proposal? If you're not sure about me, I'll wait, for as long as you want. I'm not blind. I've guessed for a long while now that you're
keeping something from me. Are you married?"
Adriana leaned toward him and kissed him tenderly. "No, I'm not married," she told him.
"Are you promised to someone else," he asked.
She shook her head, and smiled at him.
Relieved, he encouraged, "Then whatever is holding you back, we can work it out."
The roar of wheels intruded and Adriana glanced up the street. "It's my bus. Let me go home. I-I promise to call you later and explain." She pulled away from his arms and stood up.
David controlled his desire to stop her. He watched unhappily as she ran to join the others waiting to board the bus uptown.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Adriana did not keep her promise. As suddenly as she had appeared in his life, she disappeared. When she didn't return his calls, David phoned Mrs. Spinetta.
"What's going on?" he entreated. "What is she hiding from me? Please, Mrs. Spinetta, I'm in love with her, and she's in love with me. She told me so, herself, when I proposed. At least give me her address. Why all this secrecy? Is she under some sort of Witness Protection?" Various scenarios kept playing through his mind. Was she terminally ill and hoping to spare him anguish?
He heard Mrs. Spinetta breathe a deep sigh. "All right, David. Ady is fine. She's gone back to her parent's home—"
"Where? What's the address?" David asked anxiously.
"Before I give you that information, I need to tell you a story. Ady's ... Adriana's story. May I come over?"
"Yes, of course. Please. In fact, I'll come to you. Save you the bus trip."
"Thank you, David. I'll be waiting."
Within the hour, David arrived at Mrs. Spinetta's apartment. Located downtown, near the Williamsburg Bridge, her dwelling was what he'd imagined Ady's to resemble, a second floor boxed residential similar to the other apartments in the ten-story building. She welcomed him into her home with a hug.
"Come in, come in, son."
Sal sends his regards. He's at the Senior Center. Today is exercise class."
David asked, "How are you feeling?"
"Well rested, thanks to Ady. And happy to return and resume my duties, if you want me to."
He nodded appreciatively, but the perplexed sadness on his face was undeniable. "Is it something I did?" he asked, following Mrs. Spinetta into the kitchen and accepting her offer to sit at the table. She had set flowery place mats, with coffee cups and cake dishes for his choice from the round bowl of soft and hard anisette biscotti.
Mrs. Spinetta took the steaming carafe from the coffee maker and filled the cups with the black brew. She pushed the creamer and sugar bowl closer to him.
"To answer your question, you have been the perfect gentleman. You have done nothing to push her away," she told him.
He added cream and sugar to his coffee, and slid the creamer and sugar bowl toward Mrs. Spinetta. She added the cream to her coffee but skipped the sugar.
"I need you to be calm and listen quietly," she said. "First, let me apologize for my own part in Ady's story. But I felt her reasons for not telling you everything, were sincere and reasonable, for her." She sipped at her coffee, her eyes entreating. "Will you promise not to judge her, and try to understand her reasons for what you may tag as deception."
Among the various scenarios he'd imagined for Ady's reticence, deception had not crossed his mind. "She told me she wasn't married, nor promised to anyone. Whatever the problem is, we can work it out, as long as we love each other."
Mrs. Spinetta smiled warmly. "I've prayed a long time for you to find someone with whom you could be happy, someone who could love you with all her heart. I believe Adriana is that someone."
Reluctantly, she told him everything she knew about Adriana Dellaporta and her family.
David's coffee grew cold as he listened, brow knitting and the word deception taking on the meaning intended. It was not hard to understand how Mrs. Spinetta with her old ways, kindness and motherly concern, was taken in by Adriana's resemblance to a heaven-sent angel and the answer to her prayers. Once his Detective series became popular, several women had contacted him and tried to pass themselves off as his lady in red. None had gone as far as Adriana. Or succeeded as she had.
Mrs. Spinetta finished her anecdote with her assurance that Adriana was the woman he had met in Florence, three years ago. A friend of Sal was in the security business. He owed her husband a favor and had done a security check on Adriana. Everything she had told Mrs. Spinetta was the truth.
David's tone was grim. "She may be the lady in red I met that evening," he said, "on the outside. But the girl I believed her to be on the inside, that was all a lie. We were both taken in."
"No, David, she never lied to you. You guessed from the beginning she was holding something back."
"Neglecting to tell me such an important truth, for me constitutes lying," David affirmed vehemently. "She lied about her name. Ady Doorof."
Mrs. Spinetta held back a chuckle. "Ady is a nickname for Adriana, and think about it, Doorof, depending on how you pronounce it, is English in reverse for Dellaporta — of door."
"I don't hold it against you for taking her part," David said. "She fooled us both. I do want you to come back and resume your position with me. But please, I never want to hear about Ady Doorof — or Adriana Dellaporta again."
"But she's in love with you, and she's ashamed to face you, and miserable, guessing correctly your reaction, and the contempt you probably feel for her. David, you are reacting this way because of the hurt you're feeling."
"You're right. I feel as if my heart has been torn out and trampled on." David pushed his chair back and stood up. "If she should contact you, tell her she has no need to feel miserable. I'm fine. I'll survive. The best thing for both of us is to forget we ever met."
"I'm so sorry, David."
"As I said before, I don't blame you. She took us both in."
When he reached the door, he turned and sent her a sad smile. "I'll expect you Monday. And I apologize in advance for the mess you'll find. At least I can assure you, the character in my books will fare much better than I have."
David opened the door and went out.
Mrs. Spinetta put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, my God," she moaned. "What a disaster. He's heartbroken and lashing out. And poor Adriana, when she hears."
Mrs. Spinetta rose to her feet. Her mouth clenched with determination. She looked heavenward through her kitchen window. "I can't let it end this way," she said to the Good Lord.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elegant and sophisticated in a white and black tux, Kurt Lance stepped from the Limousine. Joe, the door attendant, tipped his hat to greet him and Kurt's wife, Helen, who waited in the vehicle. "David left word for you to go right up," Joe said with a genial smile.
Kurt waved to his wife through the half-opened window. "Be right back," he told her. She nodded. Once again he thought how lovely she looked in a blue silk gown that fell in folds from beneath the bodice down to her ankles. The folds did little to hide her curves, especially the curve growing from under her bosom to below her belly, where their unborn child resided for the time being. There was truth to the saying about the mother-to-be glow, Kurt pondered. Helen was so beautiful to him. If tonight was not so important for David, their protege, he'd return home this instant with Helen and give in to his desire to make love to her again, notwithstanding they'd made love that morning.
Lilac, as her parents had nicknamed her, read the admiration in Kurt's glance and divined his thoughts accurately. She waved back to him, sending him a tender expression of her love.
Kurt took the elevator to David's floor. He hoped his protege was ready. They were running late for the gala affair celebrating the success of several of the publishing house's books. Included was David's final installment in the Lady in Red Detective Series, as his fans had nicknamed the series. This final book where the police detective and the mysterious Lady in Red finally reunited had sold more copies than the prior seven books put toge
ther.
David opened the door. The ruffled tuxedo shirt and satin trimmed black pants gave him an air of breeding and appeal. Except for his eyes. If one looked close, the loneliness was readily apparent. The fictional character of the police detective had found his lady, but not so the author of the story on whom he was partly based.
"Hurry up, we're running late," Kurt greeted. "We need to get to the hall before the press. Channel Seven plans to interview the authors honored at the celebration tonight."
"I'll just get my jacket," David said. The tone of his voice portrayed excitement, but there was a lackluster about it as well. He was glad that his books were doing well, but the happiness was half-hearted.
Kurt shook his head as David shrugged into his jacket. David was a handsome, intelligent, well-mannered man. Most women would welcome his attentions. But a rumor had started that he was a misogynist, because of late he shied away from the female gender as if they were poisonous. He and Helen, of course, knew, what was wrong. Mrs. Spinetta had paid Kurt and his wife, a visit at the publishing house, a couple of months ago. They had listened, mouths agape, at her revelations.
To be certain what she told them was true, they made their own security checks. And now no doubt remained about Ady's true identity, especially when the private investigator they hired located more than one attendee of that evening in Florence who'd held on to the pictures of the captivating couple on their cellphones.